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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27072847">~Secret Words~</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michael28withabee/pseuds/Michael28withabee'>Michael28withabee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, High School, Jock Liam Payne, M/M, Oneshot, Shy Zayn Malik, onedirection</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 00:54:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27072847</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michael28withabee/pseuds/Michael28withabee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Liam could remember, Zayn had always carried a notebook with him. The thing was, Zayn always wrote in them. Liam had never seen him doodle in them, never took notes, it was always page after page of original writings, but he never show anyone (Not his mum, not his sisters, not his friends, not even Liam) what he wrote. At first, it didn't bother Liam that he didn't know, but after years of secret words inked on off-white paper, he was getting a bit too curious for his own good.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zayn Malik/Liam Payne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>~Secret Words~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>--------</p><p>Ever since Liam could remember, Zayn had always carried a notebook with him. Specifically a black notebook he'd draw on every time he'd get a new one. But even when he'd buy a new one, it was always the same size, same shape, same colour, same line spacing, and still Liam could always tell when he got a new one. The drawings on the cover were never the same, always the same style, a type of easy graffiti, but always instilling wonder and awe in Liam. </p><p>The thing was, Zayn always wrote in them. Liam had never seen him doodle in them, never took notes, it was always page after page of original writings, but he never show anyone (Not his mum, not his sisters, not his friends, not even Liam) what he wrote. Never read them aloud, not even mumbled words of what he was writing. At first, it didn't bother Liam that he didn't know, but after years of secret words inked on off-white paper, he was getting a bit too curious for his own good. </p><p>And so it begun, Liam started slyly trying to peak over Zayn's shoulder while he wrote, in which he'd just "casually" shift. Then he tried bribing Zayn, begging him to at least let him read one and he'd cuddle him as long as he wanted, that got a laugh and a fond head shake out of Zayn. Then just out right asking. "Hey Zee? What do you even write about? Like, stories? Theories? What's going on inside that pretty head of yours?" And Zayn blushed, covering the notebook more with his arms and ducking his head to hide the red tint and inkling of a smile creeping onto his face. </p><p>"S nothing Li, promise. I'll show you one day." He swore, sincerity flooding his perfect hazel eyes. And Liam, dumb, dopy, soft-for-Zayn-Malik Liam, only nods. He doesn't fight him on it. Zayn, shy, quiet, prefect Zayn, still lets him get a few words glancing over his shoulder, allows a few of his words to slip from his mouth while writing, trying so desperately to be subtle and hide his smirks. </p><p>                                                                                                                              --------</p><p>It's the end of the day now. Zayn's favorite time of the day, it being a mixture of his last class being art, watching Liam practice, and riding home with Liam in the afternoons that make Zayn so giddy. So he's speed-walking down the hallway to his locker, his notebook between his teeth while trying to carefully shove important art projects or works in progress into his old, tattered bag. </p><p>It's as he's about to zip up his book-bag that a rough hand is shoved into his shoulder, pushing him against the lockers and leaving him to gasp, surprised, and squeeze his eyes shut. He knew who they were without even having to look. Every school had their bully group, and this was theirs. </p><p>Usually, they leave kids like Zayn alone. The outcasts with minimal friends whether by preference or because of their looks, the bully's usually let them do their thing. Obviously not today though, apparently they were low on fresh meat, and Zayn just seemed like the perfect target. </p><p>The tallest of the four still had his hand crushing into Zayn's shoulder, keeping him pushed up against the lockers, one of the dials digging into his mid-back. "Where do you think you're going, Muslim boy? Can you even speak English?" He chided close to Zayn's ear, the hot air made Zayn cringe, trying to sink into the lockers, to escape from the jeers, the words, the crushing pain in his shoulder. </p><p>"Home." He could only whisper back, trying desperately to be cooperative, hopeful they'd let him go. But no such luck, instead they began laughing. Mocking his Bradford accent, shoving him around, then ripping his back from his hands. The action tears his bag in half, his belongings scattering all over the hallway floor. Papers, pencils, and folders slid across the floor, making the bully's laugh even more. A few of them kicked his things, stepping on them, doing what ever they pleased, while Zayn could do nothing but watch. </p><p>Tears stung his eyes as he watched them trample his hard work. His last and only hope was to keep the black notebook away from their prying eyes and hateful hands. But Zayn had never been very lucky in these situations. </p><p>"What's this?" Spoke another goon, his tone mocking and teasing, clearly amused and ready to pounce at the command. Then he lifts the notebook, shaking it just above Zayn's head out of reach, but Zayn's still pinned to the locker. </p><p>And he still lurches forward, willing to get beat to a pulp for his book. It was one of the most important things to him, he'd do anything for it. The boy pinning Zayn to the locker only pushed him back harder, the movement making Zayn slam his head against the locker, and loud bang echoing through the barren halls. "Please, please give that back. Beat me up, just, just give me my book." He pleaded wetly, swaying slightly. </p><p>"Please, please, oh you're such a bitch." They taunted, the tallest slapping him across the face harshly. He cried out, letting tears slip down his face, he just wanted to go home and write in his notebook, but knowing these boys, he probably wasn't ever getting it back. </p><p>Then he hears him, it's not to loud, but catches his attention quickly, his head whipping up to look down the hall. "Zayn?" And Liam, perfect, wonderful Liam, is walking down the hall, coming back from football (English) practice with his team in tow. </p><p>Zayn almost cries in joy at the sight of his Liam, but instead all that manages to come out is a sobbed," Liam..." </p><p>It wasn't much, but all Liam needed before his face morphed into something dark, terrifying, something Zayn had never seen from Liam before. Puppy, soft, mom-friend, Liam, but this wasn't him. "Get them." He growls behind clenched teeth and furrowed brows. </p><p>It was the queue the team was waiting for, moving quickly to take out the other four goons. Punches are thrown, people are shoved, and Liam couldn't care less. His only concern in the world being the only opponent no one had gone to touch, the subject in question who still had a smirk on his face, a hand on Zayn's shoulder, and the notebook in his free hand. But Liam wasn't going to let that stand for too much longer. </p><p>He moved quickly then, taking the taller boy down with one punch across the jaw, straddling him on the ground as he pressed his forearm to the boys throat. "You ever touch him again, you ever say his name, if i so much as see you looking at or breathing near him, you won't have eyes or functional lungs any longer. Got it? And if that's not enough incentive for you, i know your sister, she's very, very good friends with my mom, and i won't hesitate to rat you out. Hear me?" Liam growled into the boys ear, only loud enough for him to hear as he choked on his lack of oxygen, but he nodded non-the-less.</p><p>With a firm push on the boys esophagus, Liam stood, pulling the book from the boys grasp as he gasped for air on the floor. With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Liam immediately turned all his attention to the sniffling boy on the ground, desperately trying to pick up all of his papers and salvage his art works. With a sad smile, Liam kneeled in front of him. Cupping his tear streamed face in his hands softly, a small, easy smile, on his lips. "Breathe for me Zee, it's gonna be okay babe, right?" He spoke softly, hugging Zayn around his neck while the smaller boy buried himself in Liam's neck for comfort. </p><p>"Thank you Li. Thank you so much. Love you." He mumbled against Liam's chest, still sniffling and tears still slipping down his cheeks helplessly. And Liam, poor wonderful Liam, could only chuckle, brushing soft fingers through Zayn's hair easily. </p><p>Pulling away from each other, Zayn whined at the loss of contact, but knew they had to go home at some point. Liam easily picked up all of their belongings, carefully putting Zayn's in his own book-bag, and holding his hand the entire walk home.</p><p>                                                                                                                               --------</p><p>That night, one of many others where both of their parents were gone, either working, on business trips, or just visiting somewhere else, Liam meets Zayn at his house, the only reason they prefer Zayn's house to Liam's is because they could get to the roof easier. </p><p>As they laid out on the roof, Zayn couldn't look Liam in the eyes for a long time. He was embarrassed by what the boys had said, he was embarrassed Liam had seen him cry, he felt weak. 'But this is Liam.' He bargained with himself, knowing he wouldn't want to talk about the ordeal, but at the least, he could look at Liam. </p><p>The boy, in which, had been with him through thick and thin. So Zayn glanced over at him, and he immediately regretted it. </p><p>The sun, almost completely set behind Liam, casting beautiful blue and orange lights over his face, hard shadows accenting his handsome face perfectly. Zayn couldn't help but notice the slight showing of stars around his head creating a perfect halo above fluffy brown hair. His chocolate eyes shone with content at the sight of the stars and the fresh air. </p><p>Shivering harshly, something flared in Zayn's chest as he moved quickly, startling Liam, grabbing his notebook, and flipping it open as swiftly as he could before the words bouncing around his head could disappear. He messily scratched the words into his book with such speed some of the words seemed illegible, but Zayn knew. Knew as soon as the words were down he'd never be able to forget the specific set, the specific order, the flow.</p><p>As soon as he was content with what was written, he relaxed, staring at the blank lines under the writing, the butt of his pen going into his mouth without his usual stick of gum there. Tapping the pen against his bottom lip for a moment, he shrugged to himself, going back to look at Liam, hoping the sight of the boy will, again, spark some inspiration in him to write more. </p><p>Instead he catches Liam trying to read over his shoulder, his wandering eyes glancing, squinting to try and get a better look. Zayn can't help the giggle that slips from his lips, Liam's eyes immediately shooting up to his, a heavy blush coating his cheeks at being caught. Even with being caught, he doesn't look away, instead smiling back with a shrug, as if to say 'Can you blame me?' </p><p>With a small shake of his head, Zayn looks back at his book. His lip now between his teeth as he began to contemplate his next move, then he sighed, bringing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "I... I write poetry... It's... It's always been poetry." Peeking from behind his hands, he smiled at Liam's contemplative look. "Yes, even then.. It's just- always came easy? And you know I've never been very good with words.." Fiddling with his fingers in his lap, Zayn sneaks another look at Liam, hoping for some kind of positive reaction. </p><p>Rather than anything Zayn had been hoping for, Liam was staring at him blankly. The only thought going through his head being," I love poetry." Not- he wasn't supposed to say that out loud. His cheeks now stop-sign red, Liam ducks his head to try and save what little dignity he has left. But this is Zayn, lovely Zayn. </p><p>He smiled, his teeth pressed to the backs of his teeth cutely, his hand reaching out to brush softly over the back of Liam's forearm. "Did you wanna-?" He trails off, nervously gesturing to the notebook still laying in his lap. </p><p>Liam's head shoots up at the question, surprise and excitement evident in his warm eyes. "Please?" He nods, his eyes flickering from Zayn's eyes to the book then back to his eyes. With shaking hands, Zayn hands over his most personal belonging. </p><p>And he immediately hates himself for doing it. He knows he can lose Liam doing this. Knows this could be the last time they talk. The last time they sit on his roof together. The last moments he might have with Liam. So, Zayn does what he does best, studies. He watches Liam closely as he reads, waiting for his disgusted look, waiting for the confusion, the revulsion, the hatred. </p><p>But then- He's smiling? He's laughing, he's crying, different wonderful emotions take over Liam as he reads. Able to understand and feel so deeply what Zayn writes, it concerns him a bit. But not enough to stop reading. Never enough to stop reading. Then, he's read them all, and he's flipping back some pages. </p><p>"These are wonderful, Zayn! Are they-?"</p><p>"...They're about you... 's always been you..." He whispers, flushing beautifully, and hiding his face at Liam's hundred watt smile. </p><p>"... This one's my favorite. 'I've always hated the idea of perfection as no such thing exists, but then i saw you laughing. Crinkles by your warm chocolate eyes and flushed cheeks, and I'd felt as if i found it. Looking in the dictionary for perfection would be a picture of you and your name, no doubt in my mind, but now i have hope for other things that i didn't think truly exist. You always seem to do that to me these days.'</p><p>Zayn groaned fondly, grabbing the notebook from Liam's hold quickly. "I knew i shouldn't have let you read that." He said teasingly, clutching the black book to his chest childishly. </p><p>Liam rolled his eyes, moving to sit behind Zayn, and hugged the boy from behind, resting his chin on Zayn's shoulder easily. "Yeah, but I'm glad you did. Makes me love poetry, and you, more." He smiled, pressing an innocent kiss to the boys cheek. </p><p>Beaming, Zayn relaxes back into Liam. Now with an even greater need to write and write and write, all for his boy.<br/>
--------</p>
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